You live like machines,
grinding gears,
perfect gestures,
empty hearts.

Smiles rehearsed,
compassion outsourced.

You preach love,
but it never leaves your lips,
nor enters your heart.

You took the living truth
and caged it in rules.
Castrated the wild gospel—
cut from it the mystery,
the mercy,
the Truth.

Reduced it to performance,
tradition,
nonsense.
A step-by-step script
for staying the same.

You starved shepherds,
leading flocks to mirages.
You count the sheep,
but ignore their thirst.

Genuine experience replaced
by hollow expectation.
Wonder traded
for rules you bend in secret.

You demand conformance,
but have never been transformed.

You speak of light,
but live in shadow.

Oh wicked elders,
lay down your tools—
we are made in the image of God,
not forged from stone and wire.